I wish I could pin-point the exact moment in time when I started neglecting myself. Is neglect the right word? Perhaps it’s better to say there came a moment in time when something, for some reason I need to understand, became more important than me loving myself. That something, I think, was feeling worthwhile to someone else. And if that’s the case, it makes no sense. How can a person be truly valuable to another if they care more about being liked than about being who they really are?
It’s embarrassing to admit. I thought I had it more together. I thought I had a stronger sense of self, and an iron-clad ability to not give a fuck about what people think about me. How and when did I become so insecure?
I have a lot of bad habits. Maybe that’s part of it. In many cases I am entirely fearful that if anyone discovered these habits they would reject me in an instant because I’m gross, or crude, or disgusting. I figure it’s ok to keep some secrets – those things you do during your own private time. But the fear of being exposed really can do a number on a person. Sometimes I worry I’m not good enough, like these bad habits put me on the bottom of the pile. But I never used to think like that when I was younger. Take me as I am! – I would shout. I wouldn’t dare change for anyone. How is hiding any different? And now I am constantly worried that my bad habits are deal-breakers.
Another thing that happened is I crossed the age of 40. I’ve never been married. I don’t have kids, and have never really wanted them. I’ve bounced around the world chasing fun opportunities instead of pursuing a ladder-climbing career or a relationship. I’ve had a heap of fun. Tons! So why do I feel these days like I’ve shot myself in the foot? Perhaps I am just going through a low moment, but I’m going to be 50 in less than 10 years, and I have nothing but experience and memories. I have no equity. I don’t even have my own apartment. The glamorous life I joyfully lived now looks like a smudge on my resumé. Non-committal. Aloof. Dreamer. Unrealistic. Sure. Maybe I’m being hard on myself, but I can’t help but wonder how on earth I am going to afford to retire one day. That takes a serious toll on my daily thoughts. But there’s always the chance I’ll die before I retire. Or I’ll live to 100 like two of my great grandmothers.
Ah but so I did finally start to pursue a relationship. It took me by surprise. I guess that’s what they do. Slowly, though, doubt began to creep in. Did he really know me? Did he pick up on my bad habits? Does he know I’ve just been coasting through life and nothing has really meant that much to me? Bit by bit worry entered me. Was I a fake? Did I really love him? Could he see right through me? Why wasn’t I fun anymore? Did he truly love me, or was I some character in a fantasy?
In the beginning I was fun. I made jokes. I poked his soft spots. We laughed at life. I was confident and sure of who I was. But then he mentioned his ex a lot. He buried himself in his work. And I, the woman who used to be independent, subconsciously began to feel less then. I got needy. Clingy. I needed reassurance. The thing is. I should’ve left him. He wasn’t 100% into it. But I, for once, liked being in a relationship and I didn’t want to give up just yet. I just didn’t know at the time that that’s not how they work. And if you stay in a union with another person where the core fundamental principles of that union is loyalty, honesty and trust, and one of you isn’t really participating, that it can really knock you down.
I didn’t put myself first. I put the relationship first. So I started trying to make him happy. To help him forget about her. To bribe him in ways to think about me. People aren’t that easily swayed, and love doesn’t work that way. It was like I was a child trying to convince someone to give me my own way. I was a fool, and I wouldn’t find it out until I had invested so much more of myself – while he was slipping away. The more I poured it on, the more I wasn’t the fun self I first was. In a matter of months I forgot all about me and what I wanted out of life – and my focus became him. I lost myself. I’m so ashamed.
So we broke up. It was a shock. It’s still a shock. But I don’t blame him. I can’t control him, or his heart. I can only control mine. I knew months ago that something was off. And I’m sure he did too. But we both couldn’t pinpoint what it was. While I’m pretty certain he wasn’t quite over his ex and really shouldn’t have gotten involved with me in the first place, I am not blameless. I sold him fun-girl and he wound up with miss-anxiety.
I’ve learned a valuable lesson about self-love. It’s a lesson I feel I should’ve learned a long time ago. I don’t know why it took me so long. Maybe it’s because being in love was an unusual experience for me. I just seemed to forget that I need to be in love with myself much much more than with anyone or any situation. If things are off, put my mental and emotional health first. Live my life first. My goals. My dreams. My hopes. The rest is mutual understanding. It’s been a tough lesson. Do not sacrifice who you are to keep someone in your life. People will come and go. The good ones will see you entirely, and your rough edges will not be deal-breakers. And you’ll be confident and comfortable with that. The ones that will leave will still leave no matter if you try to stop them, or hold the door for them on the way out. That doesn’t make them good or bad. But you? You’re stuck with yourself for the rest of your life, so be someone you love to be. Create a life for you that you love to live. And if you think you may have shot yourself in the foot, ask yourself if you’re feeling this way because of comparison. What works for others may not be what brings you happiness. Be confident in your choices. Life will keep on going no matter what.
Humanbeen's Blog 